Chapter Five: A Business Deal at the Door

Lin Fan walked to the door. Through the video intercom, he saw a dignified, elegant middle-aged woman anxiously ringing the doorbell, her hand gripping the arm of a young man whose face bore an expression of arrogance.

Unhurriedly, Lin Fan pressed the intercom button and said, “Honored guests, please wait a moment. My master is currently in meditation. I ask that you do not disturb him. Please forgive us, Amitabha.” He lied with a straight face, not a hint of guilt, his words flowing as smoothly as ever.

“You always say you don’t want to deceive people, but you’re even slicker at it than I am,” Lin Hai muttered, emerging from the storeroom with his arms full of bags. He glanced at Lin Fan, his heart full of disdain.

“Please, Master and Little Master, don’t take offense. We will wait patiently,” the middle-aged woman replied politely, withdrawing her hand from the doorbell upon hearing someone respond.

“Mom, why did you bring me to this godforsaken place? What master? He’s just a third-rate fraud…” The young man beside her lifted his chin, his face full of contempt.

“Shut your mouth! If you spout nonsense again, don’t ever call me your mother,” the woman snapped, her eyes wide and her tone brooking no argument.

Seeing this, the young man fell silent and stood aside, his arrogance instantly extinguished.

“Uncle, who are those two at the door?” Lin Fan asked.

“My big clients. The woman’s name is Zhang Hua, a famous entrepreneur. That fool next to her is her son, a notorious trust-fund kid,” Lin Hai replied as he deftly set about arranging the living room. In no time, the table before the TV looked like an altar: a peachwood sword, a sword strung with coins, talismans, a Bagua mirror, an ink line, a compass, a set of bells—everything one could imagine, dazzling the eye.

Lin Fan saw that the center of the living room had been transformed into a Daoist sanctuary. Looking up, he spotted the enormous widescreen TV behind the altar. On it sat an elderly man with a celestial air and a white beard, flanked by a couplet: “With upright spirit, I awe heaven and earth; With pure sleeves, I reflect the ages.” The horizontal scroll read, “To Save the World.”

The whole room reeked of a scam.

“Uncle, did you really write such shameless couplets? Are you planning to bankrupt your clients with all this pageantry?” Lin Fan was astonished.

“Nonsense! Can a dog’s mouth spit ivory? If I didn’t put on a grand show, how would they be so willing to fall for it—no, I mean, how would they sincerely repent and accumulate virtue? Charity work isn’t easy, you know!” Lin Hai hurriedly donned his Daoist robes and checked his makeup in the mirror.

“Wow, you have quite the flair for swindling money. I’m impressed,” Lin Fan said, watching Lin Hai scurry about.

“That’s just how outstanding your uncle is—I love helping others. Go open the door, disciple,” Lin Hai said, settling cross-legged behind the altar, closing his eyes, and assuming a mysterious posture.

Lin Fan curled his lip in skepticism but obediently went to open the door.

As soon as Lin Fan opened it, Zhang Hua nodded to him and hurriedly dragged her son Zhang Yang straight to Lin Hai.

“Master, please help my son! You know he is all I have left—his father died young, and it’s just been the two of us for years. I beg you, I’ll pay any price if you can cure him!” Zhang Hua, her eyes full of worry, got straight to the point.

Clearly, she was a regular and quite familiar with Lin Hai.

“Ahem… Mrs. Zhang, we’re old acquaintances, so let’s not talk of money. Money is the root of all evil. As Daoists, we have always regarded wealth as dirt. Our doctrine teaches us to punish evil, do good, help the righteous, and save the world,” Lin Hai replied, feigning solemnity as he glanced at the TV, retreating to advance.

“Of course, Master. I’ll do as you say, but please, help my son,” Zhang Hua pleaded, pulling the limp Zhang Yang from the sofa.

Lin Hai quickly corrected himself, “Money can be waived, but for your son’s sake, you must still make a virtuous offering.” With that, he pulled a merit box from under the table and set it before him.

“Pfft—” Lin Fan couldn’t help but laugh at the scene.

Lin Hai instantly shot him a glare.

“See, Mom? He’s nothing but a crook…” Zhang Yang’s anger flared at the sight, but as soon as he began to protest, Zhang Hua slapped him so hard he saw stars.

“Master, forgive my unfilial son. Please don’t stoop to his level.”

Zhang Yang, nursing his cheek, straightened up to argue, but a warning glare from his mother made him shrink back into silence.

“It’s nothing. Your son is a common man who doesn’t understand the greater truths of the Dao. It’s no matter,” Lin Hai said, suppressing his irritation.

“Master, I came in a hurry today and don’t have much cash on me. Could you give me your card number so I can transfer the merit offering to you?” Zhang Hua asked, mindful of the rules even amidst her anxiety.

“Disciple, copy down the merit account number from my universal bag for Mrs. Zhang,” Lin Hai ordered, eyes squinting.

Lin Fan froze for a moment—universal bag? Merit account? He’d never heard of such things. He looked to Lin Hai for clarification.

Lin Hai signaled for him to lean down, then whispered, “There’s a card in the lining of my underwear on the bed—go copy the number for Mrs. Zhang.” He then closed his eyes again, assuming an air of inscrutable patience.

Lin Fan understood and played along. “Yes, Master.”

Zhang Hua and her son waited patiently. Before long, Lin Fan returned and handed Zhang Hua a slip of paper, then took his place beside Lin Hai.

Zhang Hua, clutching the note, said anxiously, “Master, you know me—we’ve known each other for so long. I promise I’ll transfer it as soon as I get home. Please, just see to Zhang Yang first.”

Relieved, Lin Hai looked up at Zhang Yang, who stared back at him, eyes blazing with anger.

“Please be seated, both of you. My neck is a bit stiff,” Lin Hai directed, maintaining his professional composure under Zhang Yang’s scornful gaze as he scrutinized the flushed young man before him.

After a moment, Lin Hai turned to Zhang Hua and began to spout nonsense. “Mrs. Zhang, your son’s eyes are bloodshot, his body is consumed by false fire, he has overindulged in lust, his qi and blood are depleted, his yin and yang unbalanced—his life is in grave danger.”

“Bullshit! You—” Zhang Yang leapt to his feet, unable to bear it, but Zhang Hua yanked him back down.

“Master, what should we do? Please, save my son,” Zhang Hua said, her voice trembling with worry.

“Don’t worry, Mrs. Zhang. I’ll cure him,” Lin Hai said, moving toward Zhang Yang.

“I’m not sick. What are you—” Before he could finish, Lin Hai pressed firmly on an acupoint at the base of Zhang Yang’s skull, and the young man collapsed into his mother’s arms.

“Master, this…” Zhang Hua asked anxiously.

“It’s fine. He just needs to sleep,” Lin Hai replied, moving to the altar. He picked up the peachwood sword and bells, and with an air of mystery said, “Mrs. Zhang, when a person dwells too long in darkness, filth clings to them; unclean things will come seeking them out. When bad luck strikes, demons will haunt their dreams and erode their humanity! This, I fear, is the root of your son’s illness.”

Zhang Yang, slumped in his mother’s arms, began to snore.

“Master, you saw right through it?” Zhang Hua gasped, and then, sighing, continued, “Sigh… I don’t know what’s wrong with this child. Lately, he’s been sleepwalking all over the place, talking in his sleep, his voice turning shrill, sometimes even doing dangerous things. When he wakes, he remembers nothing. Master, is he really possessed by an evil spirit?”

“How long has this been happening?” Lin Hai asked.

“Almost a month. At first, he’d just wander around, but then he tried to open the window and jump out—thank goodness my maid was alert and saved him from the balcony. Now, none of us dare sleep when he does. What should I do?” Zhang Hua shuddered at the memory.

Lin Fan thought to himself, Isn’t this just sleepwalking? Cut back on nightlife, get some exercise, and it’ll be fine. Why come here to suffer? Rich kids really are delicate.

“Hm, your son must be plagued by something unclean. I’ll exorcise the evil right now,” Lin Hai announced. He shook the bell with his left hand, brandished the peachwood sword with his right, and began circling Zhang Yang, chanting, “Spirits of heaven and earth, reveal your power, help me expel this evil…”

Lin Fan gaped in disbelief. People still use such clichéd lines?

Zhang Hua held her breath, clutching her son tightly on the sofa, gazing at Lin Hai with devout hope.

Lin Hai circled the mother and son again and again, repeating the same line until Lin Fan felt he might be sick. After about ten rounds, Lin Hai, out of breath, returned to the altar and set his tools down.

“Master, how is my son?” Zhang Hua asked at once.

Lin Hai heaved a theatrical sigh. “Mrs. Zhang, have you noticed that your son hasn’t shown any odd behavior today?”

“Yes,” Zhang Hua replied, gazing sadly at the sleeping Zhang Yang. “Master, this is the soundest he’s slept in ages…”

“My sanctuary is thick with celestial energy. It’s temporarily suppressed his demonic tendencies—that’s why he hasn’t had an episode,” Lin Hai explained.

Celestial energy? Lin Fan scoffed to himself, More like a cloud of deceit.

“Master, please, take my son as your adopted child. Let him live with you, care for you in your old age. I’ll cover all expenses—what do you think?” Zhang Hua, desperate, was grasping at straws.

“…Mrs. Zhang, I’m afraid that’s not convenient. I already have a troublemaker here, and besides, this isn’t a long-term solution. Even if you agree, your son might not,” Lin Hai said, hurriedly declining.

Troublemaker? Lin Fan thought. He must mean himself.

“Then what can we do? Master, you can’t just let him die!” Zhang Hua cried.

“Yes, Master, just let him stay a couple nights. Once he’s better, he can go home,” Lin Fan chimed in, more interested in the spectacle than the solution.

Zhang Hua looked at Lin Fan with gratitude, then turned imploringly to Lin Hai.

Lin Hai glared at Lin Fan. “What do you know? Shut up!” Then, turning to Zhang Hua, he said, “Mrs. Zhang, how about this: I’ll give you a talisman. Have your son keep it with him at all times—he should be fine for now. Tomorrow morning, I’ll come to your home and root out the evil.”

Zhang Hua’s heart skipped a beat. Could there really be something unclean haunting Zhang Yang? Still, she felt relieved for the moment. “Very well, Master. I’ll do as you say. Thank you so much.”

Seeing the deal was sealed, Lin Hai picked up a brush, dipped it in cinnabar, and, chanting an incantation, drew a talisman. He handed it to Zhang Hua, and as she examined it, he subtly formed a mudra with his fingers and lightly struck Zhang Yang’s back. A wisp of black smoke rose from Zhang Yang’s head and vanished into thin air.

Standing behind Lin Hai, Lin Fan noticed nothing, still feeling a mix of envy and disbelief. Making money like this—scribbling on yellow paper, paying a house call, and the cash just rolls in? Is there no justice left in this world?

Zhang Hua carefully put away the talisman, gently laid Zhang Yang flat on the sofa, and chatted with Lin Hai and Lin Fan about the strange happenings at home.

Before long, Zhang Yang awoke, disoriented and unaware of what had happened. When he looked at Lin Hai, he found the man increasingly disagreeable.

To avoid further conflict, Zhang Hua quickly bid farewell, thanked them repeatedly, and helped Zhang Yang out the door.

As the two left, Lin Hai couldn’t resist a final dig: “Mrs. Zhang, your son’s illness is the result of debauchery and wickedness, of being ignoble and depraved. You must do more good deeds and make more merit offerings for this unfilial child.”

Already struggling with her heavy son, Zhang Hua stumbled at these words, and together they nearly tumbled down the steps.

Lin Fan shuddered inwardly, vowing never to cross his uncle—this was a man who always repaid a slight.